Take me to the promised land.
I’ve heard it spoken of in whispers.
I saw it in a dream of a city that never existed.
I stumbled through the fog searching
and found tree roots and shattered homes.
Take me to the promised land
where I can mend my bones.
Take me beyond the myth,
beyond the insincere touch,
beyond words that say much
that talk and talk
then turn to dust.
Take me to the promised land
and don’t count to three
because I’m a drought-parched tree
no water to be found
no balm for weathered hands
except in the promised land.
* * *
Wael Abdelgawad
Fresno, California
March 10, 2018